


Far from the shallows, tied to the shore

by solarfemm



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfemm/pseuds/solarfemm
Summary: Bucky’s dozing on the bed, spread out over the mattress, prostrate and angelic, his hair fanning around him in a halo of warm chocolate, and—Steve’s mouth waters at the sight—he’s wearing something new.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 26
Kudos: 136





	Far from the shallows, tied to the shore

Steve is the luckiest bastard in the world, and that’s never more apparent than when he gets home from missions to find Bucky there, sometimes reading on the couch with his tablet open to a Nicola Griffith book, sometimes in socks in the kitchen and on his third hour of cooking. Today, however, is a surprise.

Steve strips off his tac gear as soon as he’s inside, dropping it in piles as he makes his way through the house. “Bucky?” he calls, kicking off his boots. Bucky’s not in the kitchen, or the living room, but Steve finds gold when he walks into their bedroom. Bucky’s dozing on the bed, spread out over the mattress, prostrate and angelic, his hair fanning around him in a halo of warm chocolate, and—Steve’s mouth waters at the sight—he’s wearing something new. 

The dress he’s wearing clings to his skin, resting in silk pools around his hips, riding up over the curve of his ass, sheer enough to show off the miles of perfect skin. His scars are still visible, the empty socket of his arm glaring against the cream sheets, and the sight of him is one Steve drinks in. Bucky’s right hand is falling off the mattress like he’s waiting for Steve to take it, so Steve does, dropping to his knees by the bed. 

His arm is kicked under the bed again and he’s wearing his ring on his right hand. Steve worries his thumb over the band, bowing his head and bringing Bucky’s hand up to his mouth. Bucky jolts awake at the touch.

“Hey, hey, Buck, it’s just me.”

Bucky’s face instantly melts into a smile. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, debrief took too long.”

“I know. I got so bored waiting for you I fell asleep.”

Steve’s own face breaks out in a smile as Bucky touches the corner of his mouth. “How about I make it up to you?”

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky’s gaze turns hot and heavy, thumbing over Steve’s bottom lip, the nail catching on his skin. “What do you have in mind, Captain Rogers?”

“Well, since you went and got all pretty for me—” Steve reaches out to tug gently on the dress, the touch of it as indulgent as when Steve trails his fingers down Bucky’s thigh. Bucky shivers, and his body shifts in anticipation of more. “New dress?”

“Uh huh.” Bucky sighs as Steve trails his fingers over Bucky’s hip. “Bought it special. I knew you’d like it.”

“You know me so well.” He leans in to kiss Bucky and catches a whiff of his scent, sleep-warm and honey-rich like the body wash he uses. Steve chases the smell by kissing down Bucky’s jaw and pushing his face into his neck, inhaling deeply. He licks over Bucky’s pulse, feeling his own dick grow hard at just that. He’s so easy for Bucky, always has been, ever since he can remember. Even before they started fooling around, even before they fell in love, Bucky could lead Steve around all day, bringing just as much trouble as Steve himself no matter what anyone else thought about perfect James Barnes with his boyish charm and devilish good looks. Steve always had his number, and he’s always had Steve’s. 

Bucky groans and fits his hand around the back of Steve’s head to keep him there as they kiss again, open mouthed and dirty, and Steve clings onto the meat of Bucky’s thigh with one hand while the other holds Bucky’s. Bucky tastes tacky, like sleep and old coffee, and Steve supposes he doesn’t taste much better. Not much of a chance to brush his teeth after a two day mission. He’s bone tired and stinks like hell but Bucky still wants him, and ain’t that something. 

“I should get clean,” Steve says, even as the last of his tiredness ekes out of him, replaced by the feeling of his dick growing heavy and hard, by the desire to crawl inside Bucky’s mouth and never leave. 

“No,” Bucky says, sinking back down into the pillows. He built a structure with them, a house or a fort, piled them high around himself, embellished to one side by the rucked up comforter and weighted blanket. Steve picks up the one between them and flings it away. “Come get me all messed up, and then we’ll take a shower together.”

Steve can’t argue with that logic. Bucky grabs him and pulls him onto the bed, on top of himself, and Steve goes, pressing Bucky into the sheets and kissing him again. It’s his favourite thing in the world—to kiss Bucky, and to be kissed by him. Bucky pushes Steve’s pants down his thighs, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist, and then he can feel Bucky’s answering stiffness, the hard length of his cock digging into Steve’s stomach.

“I missed you,” Steve says, as he trails kisses down Bucky’s cheeks, both sides, and Bucky beams up at him. “I missed you so much.”

“Shut up, you sap.” Bucky bites his lip, failing to hide his grin. 

“I always think to myself, when I go away, ‘I should tell him I love him more’.” Steve realises the look on his face is what Nat calls “utterly disgusting” every time he and Bucky are in the same room, but he can’t help it.

“We’re married, Steve,” Bucky says, laughing. “I know you love me.”

“But I want to say it,” Steve says, petulantly. “I love you. I love you so much and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Bucky’s blushing furiously, even though it’s his fault that Steve’s like this—that Steve can even say the words. Bucky’s tireless love and endless patience have turned Steve into someone who can express these things without feeling ashamed, or guilty that he didn’t say them sooner. 

“You said that in your vows a year ago.”

“I meant it. I still mean it.”

Bucky sucks in a breath. “I love you too, Steve,” he says, and it’s everything. He’s smiling so widely as he says it, and he says it with so much sincerity that Steve feels the rising tide of love douse him until he’s submerged. He touches Steve’s face again, thumbing over the healed-over cut on Steve’s cheek that will be gone by the time they’ve hit the shower. “But I’ve been waiting hours for you to come home.”

Bucky rocks up and the way their cocks rub against each other sparks a shiver down Steve’s spine, liquid heat pooling at the base of his hips. Steve would love nothing more than to rut against him until they come, but he has a better idea. He kisses Bucky again before pulling away, slinking down his body and kissing him on the way through the dress, down his sternum, chest, nipples, stomach, belly button, hips. The fat curve of Bucky’s cock rests under the material and Steve puts his mouth there, tasting Bucky and the silk, suckling at the head. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky says, tipping his head back and arching his back until his body is one long, convex line. He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, petting him in encouragement, and Steve lifts the dress up to suck Bucky properly. “Steve,” Bucky says, a rush of breath, as Steve fits his lips around the head of Bucky’s cock and slips down, taking him in until his lips reach the base. This is one of the few things he allows himself to be proud of, if only for the way Bucky moans and his hand scrabbles for purchase on the bed head. 

Bucky’s thighs are open to fit Steve’s shoulder’s between them, and he’s so vulnerable like this in a way he doesn’t let himself be with anyone else. He comes to the Avengers parties at Stark Tower that Tony throws, but after living in Wakanda for two years he’s not used to the city anymore, and Steve gets that, he does. It’s selfish, but he kind of likes that Bucky doesn’t like his friends or want to be around them, because it means Steve gets him all to himself. 

No one gets Bucky like this. This is all for Steve.

Steve starts to suck in earnest, bobbing his head at the same time to pull noises from Bucky that sound wrenched out of him, that make Steve hotter and hornier and more determined to make Bucky lose it. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, breathy and low, “give me your hand.” Steve reaches his hand up and Bucky pulls his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, laving his tongue over the webbing. Steve feels his dick throb from how hard he is, messing up the sheets where he leaks onto them, trying to stave off from rutting into them. 

He pulls off to look up at the mess he’s making of Bucky, and the way his dress tapers from where it’s resting on Steve’s head to where it touches Bucky’s body, trapped under his arm, held together by the spaghetti straps that slip off Bucky’s shoulders, it feels like Steve’s in a dream. How did he get to have this, all this? How does he have Bucky to love him like this every day? He must be dreaming. He can see the column of Bucky’s throat and the beading of sweat across his chest and stomach, can feel the mush of Bucky’s tongue pressing against the pads of his fingers. He’s so hard it almost hurts, but it seems inconsequential compared to making Bucky come, which is his favourite way to while away the hours. 

He slips from under the dress and makes his way back up. Bucky comes back to himself by the time they kiss again, but his eyes are wide and dark and he kisses like he’s a man dying of thirst and Steve’s mouth is the oasis. “I love your smart mouth,” Bucky says, his hand on the back of Steve’s head. “What you do to me—I don’t know, I don’t know.”

Steve kisses him back gratefully, feeling the same way. Their hips slot together and the feeling of Bucky’s cock, damp with spit and precome, rubbing up against his own again is enough to undo him. He holds it together enough to get his hand around them both and start to stroke.

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Bucky says. After all these years they still sync together perfectly, as though their souls are the same one shared between two, Steve knowing exactly how hard to grip and how to twist to get Bucky off, and he comes with a shout, his body hot and hard beneath Steve’s, shooting off onto his own stomach and coating Steve’s hand, messing his dress up. Steve uses it to slick himself up, his balls drawing up and his stomach tightening as he comes onto the mess Bucky made, making it worse, mixing their come together on the canvas of Bucky’s skin as he comes with a groan. 

Suddenly the exhaustion he felt before he saw Bucky comes rushing back and he fights not to collapse onto him. He keeps himself up on his elbows like a gentleman while Bucky runs his hand over Steve’s chest and shoulder and back, before Steve tips to the side and falls into the mattress. They immediately roll onto their sides to face each other, Steve fitting a hand to Bucky’s cheek as they kiss. 

“Thank you,” Steve says, and Bucky grins against his mouth.

“Just doing my sworn duty as Captain America Fucker,” Bucky says, and laughs at his own joke. Steve’s too tired to do much more than lie there and catch his breath and think about how lucky he really is.


End file.
